Water Under the Bridge
by BaddestWolf
Summary: AU. Elle stays in the BAU after Aftermath. Now she must cope with what she has done, and her Bureau-mandated counselling sessions take a surprising turn when she requests a specific counselor be assigned to her case. Meanwhile, the team tracks a serial killer who is hanging women over bridges. Elle/Reid. Possible Morgan/Garcia eventually. Might be rated M in future. WIP.
1. Prologue: Tiny Bottles of Gin

**Prologue: Tiny Bottles of Gin**

* * *

"He's dead, Elle. You won." Dr. Reid sat across from Elle Greenaway, watching as she poured another tiny bottle of gin into her glass, assuming the room's mini-bar must be all but dry by now. After taking another sip, Elle picked up the last of the tiny bottles, contemplating it. She pushed it towards Reid along with a second glass. He took the bottle and unscrewed the top, upending it into the glass without ever taking his eyes from her face. It was obvious that she didn't want to talk anymore, but this case was tearing her up. Her wounds were still fresh in the most literal sense. He was worried.

"Here's to winning," she commented bitterly, savoring the burn of the alcohol in her throat. She ran a hand through her hair and flicked her eyes down to Reid's untouched glass. He knew that was his cue. He picked up the glass and took a few sips, still pointedly watching her.

Elle placed her glass on the table softly, staring down at it to avoid Reid's gaze. "I don't think I can do it anymore."

"Do what anymore?" He asked as he shifted in his seat.

"You know what," she snapped without looking up.

Reid sighed and downed the rest of his gin. He held his empty glass a few inches above the table and let it drop. Elle's head snapped up instantaneously, fear in her eyes.

"Post-traumatic stress," he stated simply as he reached across the table. For a split second he considered placing his hand on hers, but he thought better of it and snatched her glass instead.

"Hey, what the hell do—"

"You don't need any more." Reid tipped the glass back and forth. "The word _gin _actually comes from the French and Italian words for 'juniper', which is the main ingredient—"

When she interrupted him she didn't sound angry, just exhausted. "Reid. Thanks for your concern and all, but you can go."

They made eye contact for the first time in minutes. "I'm not going anywhere."

A sad smile crept onto Reid's lips and he drank the rest of the gin from Elle's glass. There had been a little more than he thought and he coughed against the unexpected burn. "I don't know how you drink that stuff."

"Practice," Elle replied nonchalantly and pushed her chair back from the table. When she stood, Reid began to get up as well. She held up a hand, "Sit down, genius, I just have to pee."

He shot her a suspicious glance as she disappeared into the bathroom. Instead of sitting back down, Reid crossed the room to the pictures scattered across the bed. If they didn't find this rapist soon, before he could hurt anyone else, Elle was going to keep blaming herself. He sat on the edge of the bed. Gathering the pictures carefully, he placed them in chronological order. The team had already come up with an explanation for the change in the unsub's choice of victim, and there wasn't much else to be learned from the pictures, but he looked through them one by one anyway.

A few minutes later, there was a small click from the bathroom door, and Elle emerged with her eyes significantly redder than when she had gone in. Reid chose not to mention it. He stood up and placed the stack of pictures on the table. Elle had stopped in the middle of the room, staring at the pictures.

"You know we're going to find him, right?" Reid put a hand on her shoulder and pulled out a chair for her, motioning for her to sit. When she did, he moved back to his seat across from her.

"This job," she began quietly, "I thought I wanted it. And for a while I did. But I hear women screaming when I try to sleep. I see a shadow behind every corner. I'm terrified of _glasses dropped on tables_, Spencer."

Elle so rarely called him by his first name that it caught him off guard. He fidgeted with the edge of his tie, vaguely aware that he was no longer sober. "I- it- given what you've been through that's perfectly normal."

"I know." Elle slapped her hand onto the pile of picture next to her and fanned them out in front of Reid. "Look at them. How many more? How tall is this pile going to be before we catch this bastard?"

Reid knew better than to answer. Those questions weren't meant for him. He let her sit there quietly for a few seconds, and then he gathered the pictures. He put them facedown and kept his hand on the pile. "We'll get him. I promise."

Elle heaved a cynical sigh, still focused on the pictures. She jumped when she felt Reid's hand brush against hers. "Elle." She was in tears when she looked up at him. "I promise."

He sat there holding her hand for nearly an hour, the room silent except for the low hum of the air conditioner and an occasional sob. "It's past midnight. You should try and get some sleep. We have a lot of work to get done tomorrow."

She nodded. He was right. He was always right. "Okay," she agreed, and pulled her hand away from his. It gave her the strange sensation that she was all alone in the world again, but she did her best to shake it off.

"Okay," Reid gave her a strained smile as he stood, pictures in hand.

Elle walked him to the door, slowly realizing she was in for a hangover the next morning. The back of her head was already pounding. Reid tried to decipher the expression on her face. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," she waved off his concern quicker than he liked. "Headache is all." She opened the door and ushered him out, rubbing her temples as she leaned on the doorframe. "Goodnight, Reid."

"Goodnight, Elle." He nodded and turned to walk away. Glancing back, he added, "And seriously, try to sleep."

She gave him a nod of agreement and shut the door behind her. Once the door was locked, she laid down on the bed, on top of the blankets and still in her clothes. Intending to just catch her breath for a second, she closed her eyes and fell asleep before she could even think to get up again.


	2. Self-Defense

**Self-Defense**

* * *

Elle holstered her gun and knelt down on the asphalt of the parking lot. "You're welcome, you son of a bitch" She leaned over and placed two fingers on William Lee's neck. Dead. Exactly what he deserved.

Regaining her composure, Elle stood and pulled her phone from her pocket. "Hi, this is Special Agent Elle Greenaway with the FBI. I went to confront Lee at his house. He's dead. No, I shot him. He drew his weapon. I just got there first. Okay, thank you." When she hung up the phone, she could feel her heart pounding against her chest. She pondered the remorse she should be feeling, but when looked down and saw the blood pooling on his chest, she was content. She was sure that if she had to go back and do it again, she wouldn't change a thing. This man would never hurt anyone else, and she was proud of that fact.

Elle ran a hand through her hair and started pacing back and forth as the first police car pulled up. They took photos of the scene and asked her for her badge and gun, just until the situation was figured out. After she handed them over, the lead detective had her recount what had happened. She told them the same story she had given on the phone. She had gone to Lee's house to confront him directly. He threatened her and pulled out his gun. She shot him before he could shoot her.

Just as she was finishing her story, a black SUV pulled up. Elle turned the other direction. She didn't want to see her team's faces right now. There was a good chance she knew what they looked like anyway. The detective finished taking her statement, handed her off to another officer, and went to greet Agent Hotchner.

"Cut and dry self-defense. Don't worry, Agent Greenaway will have her badge and gun back by tomorrow," the detective informed Hotchner, who nodded his acknowledgement. Their unsub was dead, and Elle was surrounded by police officers. She'd been more volatile in the past few days than her entire time in the BAU. Couldn't be a coincidence.

"Self-defense," Hotchner mumbled to himself as he watched Elle disappear into the back of a cop car. Dr. Reid and Agent Derek Morgan stood next to him, both looking rather blindsided. Reid was the only one who noticed Elle was deliberately avoiding eye contact with them, and he didn't take it lightly.

"Come on, guys, let's get back to the hotel," Hotch said with a sour expression on his face.

Morgan followed Hotch as he walked away, carefully noting the briskness of his steps and the clip in his tone. He didn't think they had the whole story. Reid finally caught Elle's gaze through the car window as it drove away. There was a knot in his stomach as he stood there, hyperaware of his surroundings. All of a sudden the strap from his bag seemed to be cutting into his shoulder and he felt like he was overheating even though the night was cold. The events of the night before ran through his head. Maybe he should've said something different. Or taken her drink away sooner. Maybe he should've stayed with her just in case.

"Reid!" Morgan's voice shook Reid out of his thoughts. "You coming?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah, I'll be right there!" He called back. Quietly, he added, "Elle, what did you do?" Sighing, he straightened his shoulders and readjusted his bag before taking off after his teammates.

* * *

There was a hesitant knock at the door. "Come in."

Hotch was sitting at his desk with stacks of files in front of him. There was a full pot of coffee on the edge of the desk, next to his mug. His phone was sitting off its hook. He didn't look up from the sheet he was reading when Elle came in. "Shut the door behind you."

Elle closed the door and sat down in the chair across from Hotch. She crossed her arms impatiently as he finished reading and put the paper down. He took a swig of coffee from the mug on his desk, then finally looked up at her. She was the same as she had always been, pretty in a tight red sweater, dark piercing eyes. The only thing that was really different was her new, short hair, and he'd already gotten used to that. But the sight of her made him sick. "We don't have any evidence against you. We probably never will. You know how quickly I'd arrest you if we did."

"Yeah," her tone was more sarcastic than she'd intended it to be. She was actually extremely nervous, though Hotch didn't seem to have caught on yet. She still wasn't able to shake the thought that he'd abandoned her, that he'd let the Fisher King do what he did. It was irrational before, but now it was apparent that Hotch wasn't in her corner any more.

"Look, if you want to continue working at the BAU, as your supervising agent, I'm requiring you to undergo a psychological evaluation to make sure you're fit for duty."

"Hotch—"

"It's not negotiable, Elle. You're already scheduled with Dr. Alexander tomorrow morning. I suggest you be there." Hotch took another drink of coffee and went back to reading the files in front of him.

Elle waited for a few seconds until it became glaringly obvious that he was done talking to her. She got up and crossed he room to the door. "I'll be there." She slammed the door behind her.


	3. Coffee is Caring

**Coffee is Caring**

* * *

Elle had tossed and turned all night, and eventually she gave up and got out of bed before her alarm clock even went off. She went directly for the shower. She stood there for a long time, letting the hot water rush over her, washing off the dirt and grime from the night before. When she got out she wrapped a towel around herself and went to shut off her alarm, which was finally making its dutiful BEEP BEEP BEEP.

She dried her hair and put on a black sweater. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, more put together than she had been in a few months. There was no telling how long the façade would last. Her mind was taunting her, telling her the BAU would be better without her now. There were other jobs she could do, ones where she wouldn't be scared from the minute she woke up in the morning.

Once she was dressed and ready to go, she wandered into the kitchen for some coffee. She had enough time to brew some since she'd gotten up so early. She yawned as she placed the coffee in the filter and flipped on the brew switch. "I don't think I'm going to make it through this day."

As she was waiting, she paced around the living room. It still felt relatively uncomfortable just being there. She ran her hand across the wall that had once been covered in her blood and closed her eyes. For all his other faults, Hotch had done a great job cleaning this wall. You'd never know what had happened there.

DING DONG.

Elle jumped and backed away from the door, glancing back at the clock on the opposite wall. 6:37. Who the hell was here this early? She went to the window and drew the curtain back a bit. Dr. Reid was standing on her porch in a burgundy sweater vest holding two cups of coffee. She let out the breath she'd been holding since the doorbell rang, and went to open the door.

"What are you doing here, Reid?"

He held out one of the cups. "Coffee?"

She eyed it skeptically but took it from him anyway. "You know, I'm already making some," she motioned towards the kitchen, "and besides, this is a pretty weak front. But, you might as well come in."

He smiled at her and followed her into the kitchen. She turned off the coffeemaker and sat at the kitchen table. "So what are you doing here at dawn?"

"Technically, dawn was about 45 minutes ago, this is just early morning."

"And you're here at early morning because….?" She watched him shift his weight uncomfortably and took a sip of her coffee. It was her favorite for when she wanted something other than FBI bullpen coffee, caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso.

"Your house in on my way to work."

"And my house was on your way to work yesterday, too. And last month. And a year ago. Oh my god, sit. You're making me nervous."

Reid looked down at his feet for a second but then sat down across from her. He _had _been hovering a bit.

"Did Hotch send you here to check up on me? I already told him I'd go to the damn psychological evaluation."

"No, no, no. I um, I just wanted to see if you're okay."

Elle gave him a glare and he held up his hands in surrender. "Aaaand I wanted to make sure you're actually going to your evaluation."

"Why would you think I wouldn't? All of a sudden nobody trusts me?"

He sighed and gave her a noncommittal shrug, at a loss for words. As angry as she was, she knew Reid's heart had been in the right place. To be honest, he was the only one making any effort not to shut her out completely, and she wasn't going to fault him for it. "Well, we'd better get going. If I'm not there at 8 on the dot, Hotch will probably kick me out of the BAU."

Reid considered reassuring her, telling her that Hotch was just taking precautions, but he had the feeling she was probably right.

Nearly an hour later Elle and Reid walked through the BAU doors at Quantico together. Elle received a few sidelong glances, but nobody said anything to her. They hadn't even been there a few seconds when JJ bolted past them, waving a file. "New case. Round table in 15."

Reid nodded at her, "No problem, there's just something I have to do first." He walked Elle all the way to Dr. Alexander's office door. "You're going to be fine."

Elle didn't look reassured. In fact, she was white as a sheet. Reid knocked on the door. "Good luck," he called behind him as he left her there, staring dumbfounded at the door.

Reid made his way back to the briefing room and sat in his usual chair around the table. He took his bag off and hung it on his chair, pulling out his yellow legal pad. As other members of the team began to gather around him, he had to actively force his thoughts away from Elle and onto the case at hand. After what felt like an eternity, JJ walked in, still waving files.

"Three women killed in Richmond over the past six months. M.O. is the same on each of them: abducted, held for a few days, then hung. Over a bridge."

"A bridge?" Reid did his best to sound interested without being intrigued. "Is it the same bridge or different bridges each time?"

JJ glanced down at her file. "Um...different bridges. And strangulation's the cause of death, but not from being hung. He's suffocating them with his bare hands and hanging them up after they're already dead."

Jason Gideon made a slight harrumphing sound, but it was enough to get everyone in the room to turn and look at him. "Power, punishment, and a warning."

Morgan narrowed his eyes, "What?"

"Being kept for days on end then strangled like that, he's punishing for some offense he thinks they've committed. He likes the power of it. To be in control, to be able to feel the life leaving them, and they can't stop him. Hanging them up after, that's a classic warning for future transgressors."

"But who's he targeting?" Reid asked.

JJ sighed and said, "So far there's no discernible link between the victims, other than the fact that they're all women. Christie Holliday, 27, mother of two, legal secretary. Amber Levinson, 32, stripper. Miranda Kerek, 30, stay at home mom with 3 kids. No overlapping societies, churches, schools, anything."

Garcia piped up from the back of the room, "Well, they're all roughly the same age. But we can't protect every woman in Richmond between the ages of 25 and 35."

Morgan leaned back in his chair and added, "We can try. Three in six months is a pretty steep curve. Why are they just calling us now?"

JJ shrugged and dropped the file onto the table. "I have no idea. But the most recent victim was killed less than 24 hours ago. I guess Richmond PD finally realized it was too much for them to handle alone."

Hotch finished jotting a few notes and stood up, "Richmond's less than an hour drive. We leave in 30."


	4. Fragile Mental State

**Fragile Mental State**

* * *

Elle took a seat on the fluffy blue couch after she shook Dr. Alexander's hand. Lorraine Alexander looked like she was about forty, a slight woman with blond hair cropped at her shoulders. Elle found her baby pink business suit rather off-putting.

"Hello, Agent Greenaway. How are you this morning?" Dr. Alexander asked her as she sat down on an opposing couch and flipped open a notebook.

"Fine," Elle replied, doing her best to feign a tolerant disposition. "If you don't mind my asking, what exactly is supposed to happen here today?"

Dr. Alexander smiled at her. It seemed sincere. "Agent Hotchner has just asked me to talk with you, to see how you're coping. From what I understand, you've had a very traumatic couple of months. Would it be alright if I asked you a few questions? Some of them may be personal, and you're not required to answer if you feel uncomfortable doing so."

"Go ahead," Elle said quietly. She was looking at the doctor, but she was holding on to the front of the couch cushions like she was bracing for something.

"You were shot by a suspect about five months ago, correct? How has your recovery been going up until this point?"

A number of answers sprang to mind. _It's been hell. I'm terrified all the time. I should've thrown my badge and gun onto Hotch's desk when I had the chance. I was so close to not even coming in here today. And he wasn't a suspect, he was definitely guilty._

But when Elle finally opened her mouth to answer, what came out was, "It's been going well. Better now that I'm back at work. Sitting at home was starting to drive me crazy. Do you have any idea how terrible daytime TV is?"

Dr. Alexander gave a little laugh and scribbled something in her notebook. "Are they still showing Oprah and Dr. Phil back to back?"

Elle relaxed slightly, unclenching her hands from the side of the couch. "Every day, as far as I can tell."

"Then I can see why you're happy to be back. Can you tell me what happened with William Lee?"

"The team had me go undercover, you know, to lure him out. I screwed up, let my emotions get in the way, and we ended up having to take him into custody before we had the evidence to charge him for the rapes he committed. He was delusional. Thought he was helping these women by getting them pregnant."

"Your emotions got in the way? Is that why you went to confront him alone?" Dr. Alexander didn't look up to ask her questions as she was writing.

_No, I went there to kill him. We didn't have the evidence, and I wasn't about the let him hurt another woman. Enough people had already been traumatized._

"I just wanted to talk to him. See if I could maybe get him to slip up, to tell me something we could use to hold him. He panicked when I started asking questions, pulled his gun on me." Elle waved a hand in the direction of a stack of field reports on the doctor's desk. "And one of those probably already told you the rest of the story."

"Are you experiencing any symptoms that may indicate post-traumatic stress?"

Elle narrowed her eyes, but kept quiet. She had a feeling this was the trick question she'd been waiting for. If she said yes, they wouldn't let her back in the field until she had gotten professional help. And that could take a long time. If she said no, it would seem like she'd bounced back too quickly, so she would either be perceived as lying or leaning towards the psychopathic. There wasn't a right answer here, at least not one that she could see.

"It's okay if you are. It's perfectly normal under the circumstances, healthy even. I'd be worried if you _weren't_ affected by these things."

Elle shrugged. "I have dreams sometimes. Nightmares. Sometimes I can still feel the Fisher King's hand in my chest. I can see him painting the wall with my blood." She reached a hand up and traced her fingers over the spot where her scar was under her sweater. "But sitting at home and waiting, I can't do that anymore. I just can't."

Dr. Alexander sighed and put her notebook down next to her, placing her pen neatly on top. "Look, Agent Greenaway, it's obvious that you were traumatized, first by being shot, and then by shooting a man, no matter the circumstance, and I'm not here to judge your motive or any perception of guilt. But you're working through it. It will take time, but I agree with you. Keeping you at home will do you no good, especially given that that is where your attack took place."

"You're…you're actually recommending I remain in the field? With the BAU?" Elle was legitimately surprised at this.

"Yes, that would be my recommendation. But there are a few conditions attached to that recommendation."

"Conditions?"

"You're still in a fragile mental state. It's imperative that you continue counseling until these issues have been resolved. I'd say no less than two sessions a week, just to check in. You have a very high stress job. Also, Agent Hotchner has requested the authority to pull you off of cases that may trigger your PTSD and reassign you to other, less violent crimes should it become relevant."

_Of course he has._ "Did you say two sessions a week? Doesn't that seem a bit much?"

Dr. Alexander shrugged. "It's a lot. But I also believe it's necessary. However, I'm willing to make a bit of a compromise with you."

Elle crossed her arms, skeptical. "What kind of compromise?"

"You are a private person, Agent Greenaway. You don't know me. You don't trust me. And you have no reason to. Still, Agent Hotchner has put me in charge of your wellbeing. I am prepared to reduce the number of required sessions with me to one per month."

"Why?"

"I truly believe your rehabilitation will be much better served by regular meetings with an individual you will actually talk to, especially if it is someone who knows the stresses of your job or has some psychological training. They will be in contact with me, to make me aware of any important changes or worries, but otherwise your personal weekly sessions will remain secret, even from me. At the end of the month, you and I will meet briefly to discuss your progress. As long as these requirements are met, I will certify you as fit for field duty with your team. How does that sound?"

Elle shifted on the couch, trying to take it all in. She was clutching the edges of the couch again like she was holding on for dear life. _I can go back to the BAU. _"Um, actually, that sounds a lot better than what I was expecting…but to be fair, I don't really know _what_ I was expecting. If I agree to this, who would my counselor be?"

"I will have to approve the person, but only you know who you will trust enough to have these kinds of conversations with. I think it's best if you choose. You don't have to decide right now but—"

"Dr. Spencer Reid."


	5. James River Blues

**James River Blues**

* * *

The team arrived at the Richmond police station a little before 10. The department had already set up a conference room for them, equipped with a big table and a board covered in nearly every piece of information they had on the case.

Gideon barely glanced at the board before announcing, "Hotch, I'm going to take a look at the latest crime scene. Morgan, you want to come along?" Morgan nodded.

Hotch waved them off. "Do it. I'm going to go talk to the last victim's family. Reid, we need you here on victimology. You and JJ go through it all again; see if you can't find some sort of connection between the victims."

"No problem. If there's a connection, we'll find it." Reid took off his bag and tossed it onto the table. He crossed the room to inspect a map on the board as Gideon, Morgan, and Hotch left, leaving him and JJ alone with mountains of information.

Reid pushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear as he leaned in to examine the map more closely. The three victims' homes were all marked in blue, as well as the three bridges where they were found marked in red. "The victims' homes are miles apart. We already know they didn't work together. And it's statistically unlikely they would shop at the same stores, eat at the same restaurants, or take their kids to the same park given the large geographic spread. I'm not even sure triangulating from here would do any good."

JJ walked up to the map and leaned in, brushing Reid's shoulder. She drew her finger between the three red dots. "Hmm. As a set, the bridges are further northeast than the victims' houses. See, it would make sort of a venn diagram if you connect them."

Reid cocked his head slightly, picturing it. He knew what she was getting at. "And you're thinking the unsub might live or work in the overlap?"

"Well, with nothing else to go on…Plus, it's possible there's something there that ties the victims together. Somewhere they'd go a little bit out of their way to be? What's there?"

"Huh," Reid ran a hand through his hair and turned to JJ. "More than half of the overlap is in the James River."

JJ's expression became very serious. "Makes sense. Every one of those bridges is over the river, too. _That_ we should've seen before."

"There are probably more than a hundred bridges in Richmond. Only 22 of those are large named bridges, most of which cross the James River. If he's going for spectacle like Gideon thinks, the bridge choices may have nothing to do with victimology at all. He may just be hanging the bodies where they're likely to be seen by the greatest number of people."

"Great," JJ said under her breath. She went back to the table and sat down, flipping open a folder. "Well, the first victim was Christie Holliday. She died almost six months ago to the day. Left work to go home one night, never made it there. Her body showed up four days later, hung from the northern edge of Manchester Bridge. Police investigated, but had no discernible leads until Amber Levinson's body appeared three months later, at the southern edge of the I-95 crossing. The timeline on that one's a little more speculative. The police couldn't find any family members. Her next door neighbor only reported her missing the night before her body was found, but her autopsy was almost identical to Christie Holliday's."

Reid studied the pictures of the three victims on the board. "No day to day connection between the victims, but they're all in a similar age range. They're all white, and they're all brunette. The physical similarities between the victim choices would normally indicate a sexual motivation, but the actual methodology of the crimes suggest revenge as the primary motive."

"Maybe those things aren't mutually exclusive. He could be punishing surrogates for someone he can't bring himself to harm."

Reid sat down and crossed his arms, staring at the board with a frown. "Maybe. Call Garcia and have her run every record she can find on the victims. Phones, credit cards, everything. These women's lives overlapped somewhere. If we find out where, there's a good chance it'll lead us right to our unsub."

JJ pulled out her phone and dialed Garcia, switching her onto speakerphone as she answered. "Penelope's House of Helpfulness, what _can _I do for you today?"

JJ smiled and shook her head. "Hey, Garcia. Any chance you could cross-check our victims' paper trails? Phones, any other bills you can get your hands on, credit card statements, the works."

Reid spun around in his chair. "Even if nothing matches exactly, let us know if there's any geographic overlap, like if they had to walk or drive through the same area to get to different destinations."

"You got it, Junior G-Man. You'll know when I've got something for you." Garcia hung up and Reid spun his chair back around to face the board.

They spent the better part of the next hour poring over the information they already had, but not coming up with anything new. Frustrated, JJ pushed her yellow folders away from her and put her head in her hands. "Do you ever get the feeling we're going in circles?" She stood up and walked to the door. "Be right back, I've got a couple questions for Detective Pershing."

Once she was gone, Reid sighed and leaned back in his chair. They were definitely missing something. He hoped the rest of the team was having better luck, but he doubted it considering they hadn't called in any new information yet. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and got up, making a beeline for the coffeemaker in the corner of the room. There was not telling how long the pot had been sitting there, but he poured himself a cold cup anyway. He was just reaching for the sugar when his phone rang.

"Hello? What? You are? Wow…um, that's great. See you soon."

Reid was just hanging up when JJ came back in. "Was that Garcia? Does she have something?"

He poured twice the sugar than was probably necessary into his coffee and turned to JJ, who was watching him with interest. "Reid?"

On one hand, he was extremely happy. Everything was falling back into place. On the other hand, the hand he was doing his best to ignore, he was very worried about how this was going to play out. He knew the emotional juxtaposition was apparent on his face, so he quickly turned it into the best smile he could muster. "Um, no. That was…that was Elle. She's been cleared for field duty. She's coming to Richmond."


	6. More Qualified

**More Qualified**

* * *

Elle walked into the Richmond police station, surprisingly uneasy about what she'd find when she got there. She had just waved off an inquisitive rookie cop when she heard a familiar voice carry from behind a cracked door at the back edge of the bullpen. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open just a little more, knocking lightly on the doorframe.

Morgan stopped talking mid-sentence. JJ turned around and was only partially successful at hiding her dumbstruck expression. Gideon gave her a polite nod, but refused any attempts at eye contact afterward. Reid, all tact forgotten, was grinning. Hotch was nowhere to be seen.

Morgan finally snapped them all out of it. "Elle. Are you back? You good?"

It was obvious she was back physically, but she knew full well that wasn't what he meant. She was tired of the small talk. She just wanted to work. "Yeah, I'm back. Where are we?"

JJ gave her a smile that didn't really reach her eyes, but she pushed out the chair next to her. "Have you been briefed?"

Elle held up a folder as she sat down. "Only the basics. Do we have a working theory?"

Morgan shrugged. "Not exactly. We're hoping once Hotch gets back from talking to the family of the latest victim, we might be able to start piecing something together. Gideon and I just got back from the last scene. There's practically nothing there. It's obvious he hasn't been killing his victims where he hangs them. He's got to be a big dude, though. Those women were tossed over railing once they were strung up, and none of the rails are particularly low."

JJ glanced up at the board with a frown. "What I want to know is how nobody's seen him. Even if he's hanging the bodies in the middle of the night, these are major roads. Someone would have to drive by in the time it would take for him to do this, right?"

Reid leaned back in his chair and chewed on the end of his pen. "Unless he knew there'd be a window where no one would be crossing the bridge…"

"What're you thinking?"

Morgan had barely finished the question before Reid was already on the phone. "Garcia, yeah, can you send us a list of construction and maintenance projects in Richmond going back…eight months or so? Thanks."

Right after Reid hung up, Hotch came in and crossed to the evidence board. "Anything?"

"Oh, um, we think he might be working construction or bridge maintenance," Reid answered quickly, then glanced over to Morgan. "And uh, apparently he's pretty buff."

Hotch sighed and crossed his arms. "Well, it's more than we had an hour ago. We've got two more family interviews to do. JJ, I'd appreciate it if you'd come with me on those."

She nodded and started and gathered up her things. "I'll meet you outside."

"Morgan, Gideon, you've already been to one of the scenes, you might as well check out the others for comparisons." Hotch glanced at Elle for just a second. "Reid, you and Elle keep looking for a connection between the victims."

Morgan and Gideon left without another word, and the tone of the room changed once they were gone. Reid practically scrambled out of his chair. "I'm gonna go ask someone a question over…not here. I'll be back in a minute."

"I spoke with Dr. Alexander. She's cleared you for field duty?"

He already knew the answer of course, but he needed to hear her say it. "Conditionally."

"And you understand your conditions?"

"I do."

"Victimology, then." He turned and left. He'd always been a man of few words, but that was pushing it a little far. At least it was a start.

Three or four minutes later, Reid popped his head back into the room. Once he saw that Hotch had left, he came back in and sat down. Elle glared at him and he held up his hands. "Don't look at me like that. There was no way I was getting between the two of you."

Elle shrugged and reached for one of the folders on the table. As she was flipping through it she asked, "Do you think he'll ever forgive me?"

Reid tucked a stray piece of hair behind his ear, contemplating. "I think he will. But you've got to give him time. But he won't forget."

Elle put the folder down and went over to the board. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of." She sighed and rapped the board with her knuckles. "So what's this colorful map you've got going over here?"

"It's either a decent geographic profile, or a useless venn diagram."

"What?" Elle turned to him with the first real smile she'd had for days.

He got up and snatched two markers off the middle of the table. He connected all the houses and then all the bridges. "These are the houses of our 3 victims. And_ these_ are the bridges where they were found."

"Oh…kay. I'm seeing the venn diagram."

Reid pointed to the center with one of the pens. "Mostly water. I don't really have statistics to compare it to. It's useless."

Elle put a hand on his arm. "Then let's look at something else for a while. Background on the victims, maybe."

"Garcia just faxed us credit card history for all three." Reid grabbed a stack of papers and handed her the top portion. "Victim number one, Christie Holliday."

They read in silence for a while, but then Elle sighed and leaned back in her chair. "The amount of shoes this woman bought was mindboggling."

Reid looked up at her with a smirk. "We've been sitting here for half an hour, and that's what you got? Shoes?"

"Well, everything else was painfully normal. Here and there a restaurant. Here and there a department store. She did book a boat one weekend. That sounds fun."

"Mmhmm," Reid didn't look back up, he just went back to reading. "What was the name of the company she booked the boat from?"

"Uh…Madison Marina, why?"

Reid put down his stack of papers and pulled out his phone. "Because Miranda Kerek rented a boat there a week and a half ago." He dialed Hotch and told him about the marina. It was close to one of the bridges, so Gideon and Morgan could swing by on their way back. Reid got the feeling Hotch was keeping Elle at the station as long as he could justify doing so.

"We're not going to the marina, are we?" Elle asked, certain she already knew the answer.

"No, Gideon and Morgan are going when they finish up at the second bridge."

"Right." Elle put her head in her hands. "You're going to get a call from Dr. Alexander. Probably sometime later today"

Reid looked concerned. "I am? Why?"

Sighing, Elle ran a hand through her hair and looked up at him. "Because I need you to do me a favor."

Reid nodded, but waited for her to continue. "It's a provision of her letting me back in the field. I have to have counseling sessions twice a week. With what's essentially a peer counselor."

He nodded again, completely oblivious. It took him a second to register she was done with her explanation, and a few more to tease out the implications. "Oh. _Oh._ Um, you know I'm not really trained for…I only have a Bachelor's in Psychology. I'm sure there's someone much more qualified."

Elle shot him an exasperated look. "_More qualified?_ That's your hang-up? Really? I'm pretty sure your brain is qualified for anything I can throw at it."

"Yeah, I hear that's why they keep me around." He smiled and went back to reading. Eventually he realized he'd never given her an answer. He didn't look up when he did. "And of course I'll do it."


	7. Physics Magic

**Physics Magic**

* * *

Elle flipped the light switch on, tossed her stack of case files onto a dresser near the door, and put her badge and gun on top of them. Once the door had shut behind her, she sighed and sat down at the edge of the bed. It had been a long day, but not necessarily a bad one. The marina had panned out, so they at least had one solid lead to start tomorrow morning with. Hotch had even looked her in the eye without grimacing few times and Morgan even joked with her once. At the very least, it was forward motion.

She laid back and scanned the room. It was a fairly nice hotel. The bold geometric patterns on the bedspreads and curtains might have been a bit much, but otherwise it was comfortable. She looked at her overnight bag sitting in the chair in the opposite corner. She should probably shower.

"Eh, it can wait," she decided and rolled over on the bed, reaching for the TV remote. She managed to snatch it off the nightstand in one go as she fell back against the pillows. She turned the TV on and kicked off her shoes. She had just flipped through three news stations and one of those shopping channels that no one ever orders from when there was a familiar knock at the door.

"One second," she groaned and made her way over to the door. She opened it grudgingly and stared at him before she moved out of the way so he could come in. "You're lucky you're you."

"I find oftentimes that's not the case, but in this particular situation I'll defer to your judgment." Reid smiled at her and stuck his hands in his front pockets. "You look like you're gonna punch me."

Elle shook her head and dived back onto the bed. "If you were anyone else…" She picked the remote back up and waved it at the TV. "I'd _just_ gotten comfortable."

"Sorry." Reid shrugged and went to sit down at the table. "I, uh, I got that call."

"Oh yeah? Here on official business, then?" Elle asked as she determinedly clicked through more channels.

"I just wanted to see when was best for our sessions. What're you watching?"

"Channel numbers. 42, 43, 44, oh it apparently skips 45, 46…If you can't tell, there's nothing on."

"Yeah, I was kind of gathering that." Reid hesitated for a moment but then squared his shoulders and stood up. He crossed the room in a couple strides and grabbed the remote out of Elle's hand. "Fact. Scrolling through channels rots your brain. Let me help."

Elle narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, you're officially in charge of my brain's well-being now."

"Huh. I suppose I am."

Elle shifted over on the bed slightly and patted the edge. Reid got a concerned wrinkle in his forehead. "I'm not _actually _going to punch you. Come on."

Knowing he wasn't going to win this argument, Reid sat on the edge of the bed and swung his feet up. The TV had landed on a cooking show with an angry looking man chopping handfuls of onions. "The amount of people who watch television late into the night has doubled over the past decade. In the US about 16% of people—"

"Give me this." Elle snatched the remote back from him and continued her incessant scrolling "More people might be watching late night TV, but they're definitely not watching that guy."

"Ooh, ooh, infomercial!" Elle pulled the remote out of Reid's reach just as he lunged for it, and her nearly ran his head right into her. A curtain of hair fell into his face. Elle was momentarily mesmerized when he threw his head back and pushed his hair out of the way. It was very nice hair. Reid turned to look at her with a meek smile. "I like this one…oxidizing carpet cleaner. Physics magic."

Reluctantly, she put the remote down between them, and they actually watched the entire infomercial, with sporadic interruptions for Reid to correct misrepresented facts. Once the guy selling knives that were better than everyone else's knives showed up, Reid leaned over a little and gently elbowed Elle in the side. "You okay over there?

She sighed and gave him a tired smile, "Yeah, I'm just exhausted."

"Oh, yeah, I should probably get out of your hair then." He swung his legs onto the floor and looked back at her. "But you never did answer my question. About the sessions."

"Technically, you never actually asked."

Reid raised an eyebrow. "Agent Greenaway, are you profiling me?"

Elle ignored the question, laughed, and slid out of the bed. Reid got up and followed her to the door. Even someone with his exceptional memory would've noted the déjà vu here, but he was swimming in it. Elle opened the door, but Reid placed his hand on it and pushed it shut again with a tiny click.

He couldn't escape the feeling that he had let her down once already, when there was the slightest chance that something he could've said or done may have helped her. Elle watched him quietly, studying the conflict on his face. "Reid, I made my choice. None of this is your fault."

"But if I had—"

"Spencer. Look at me." She stepped forward until they were only a few inches apart. Eventually he lifted his gaze. "I can't have you feeling guilty. You were there when everyone else left. You're supposed to be fixing me, remember?"

Reid nodded, setting his jaw. He grabbed both of her hands. "So here it is in the form of a question: When would you like to have our first session?"

"Assuming we don't end up working all night tomorrow, tomorrow would be good." A tiny smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. "You mean tonight didn't count?"

Reid glanced around the room, avoiding her eyes. "Definitely not. I think infomercials weren't exactly what Dr. Alexander had in mind."

Elle sighed and reached to open the door again. This time Reid let her do it, but he was still holding on to her other hand. He released his grasp and pushed off of the doorway on his way out. "Have a good night."

"See you in the morning, Reid." Elle closed the door and took a second to catch her breath. Her nightmares had gotten worse over the past few days, and the sudden gaping emptiness of the room terrified her. She spun around and flung the door open, ready to chase after Reid to see if he'd come back. He was still standing right outside her room, leaning against the wall, waiting.


	8. Cold-Blooded

**Cold-Blooded**

* * *

"Don't leave. Please don't leave."

Reid gave her a soft smile and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Did I look like I was going somewhere?"

She considered snapping back with a sarcastic response, _because yes, you did,_ but the fact that he was standing in front of her still had her startled. Reid gently spun her around and guided her back into the room with his hand at the small of her back.

"How did you know?" Elle asked him as she disappeared into the bathroom. There was a soft crinkling sound and then the faucet. She reappeared holding two plastic cups of water and handed one to Reid. He took it and went to sit down at the table.

"You wake up screaming almost every night. That's what you told me. That was _before _you shot Lee." He looked up at her and took a few sips of water. He put the cup back down when she came over and sat across from him. "I already left once when I should've stayed. I won't do it again."

Elle sighed. "We might get to have that first session after all."

"Why leave until tomorrow what you can do today." Reid shifted in his chair and reached into his pocket to pull out a folded sheet of paper. "Dr. Alexander gave me this list, questions and things." He unfolded it and smoothed it out on the table. "If um, well….if we didn't know where to start."

Elle leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to ask a question. He picked up the paper and scanned it quickly, clearing his throat.

"Right, well, I know you're not sleeping well. Nightmares and all. Can you tell me about them?"

Avoiding his gaze, Elle drank some of her water and then set the cup back down carefully. "It's like I told you before, I just wake up…screaming."

"Has it gotten worse since Lee?"

Elle ran a hand through her hair and let out a frustrated sigh. "No. I—I don't know. Different maybe. But not better or worse."

"Different?"

"Honestly, I only remember bits and pieces. Impressions. Like when I can feel a hand inside my chest, scooping for blood. I know it's not there, not _really_. And there's Lee's eyes. I wake up terrified he's watching me. Maybe he is." She took a few gulps of water and turned to look out the window.

"He's dead. They're both dead. They can't hurt you or anyone else anymore."

"I know that. But there's people just like them under every stone we turn over. Every case we take—they're always there." Elle kept her eyes on the window and finished her water. Both of them were quiet for a bit, until Elle suddenly crumpled her empty cup in her hand and expertly tossed it into a tiny trashcan next to the bed.

"Impressive." Reid praised her with a smirk, but then went back to fidgeting with the paper in his hands. "How does it feel being back?"

Elle shook her head. She was hoping she could avoid this question. "I almost didn't come back. But considering when you showed up this morning, you already knew that, didn't you? I'm still debating whether or not I made the right call. I transferred into the BAU more than sure that it was what I wanted. But this job takes everything from you. And it rarely ever gives you any pieces back. And what's worse is I don't know if my team will ever trust me again. I'm not as cold-blooded as they seem to think."

"Cold-blooded? You're not cold-blooded. You're—" He knew what he wanted to tell her, but now definitely wasn't the time. He looked down at the table as he continued. "If Lee died in the way Hotch thinks he did, and I'm not saying he did, _but if he did_, that's proof enough. It's eating away at you, and even though you know what Lee did, you're haunted by harming him. They don't distrust you because they think you're a heartless murderer. They distrust you because they're afraid you may have actually done something that they've considered from time to time themselves."

Elle put her hands in her lap. "Have you considered it?"

"Ah, well…" Reid took another sip of water and bit his lip. "Yeah. I have. It's a natural psychological response to the things we see every day. It's a valid coping mechanism, and probably one of the most common."

"But nobody actually does it." Elle sighed and got up. She started pacing between the table and the bed, and she caught sight of the clock. "Damn. It's later than I thought. I shouldn't be keeping you up like this."

"I told you you're not getting rid of me. How about you go take a shower, clear your head for a bit. Once you're done, we can keep talking, we can get some sleep, whatever you want. I bet there's some more infomercials on."

Despite the situation, Elle let out a small laugh. "I'm sure there are. I think a shower couldn't hurt. I'll be back in a bit."

Reid watched her disappear into the bathroom, and couldn't tear his eyes away from the door until after he heard the water running. He got up, loosened his tie, and pulled off his shoes. He grabbed the TV remote from the nightstand and sat down on the bed with his back against the wall. He turned the TV on, and as expected, a guy with a beard was trying to sell him a vacuum cleaner.

Half an hour later, Elle opened the bathroom door in a towel, hair dripping down her back and shoulders. Reid was asleep, remote control in his lap, with one lanky arm hanging over the edge of the bed. Elle smiled and grabbed her pajamas from her bag. She changed in the bathroom and did her best to dry her hair with the towel, because she didn't want to wake Reid up by trying to use the hairdryer.

When she came back out, she went over to Reid. She had forgotten she was going to have to wake him anyway. She shook his shoulder lightly. "Reid." He mumbled something incoherent and swatted her away with his hand. She caught him by the arm. "Spencer. Wake up."

He opened his eyes a little. "Elle?"

She grabbed the remote and put it on the nightstand, then pulled Reid's arm until he was forced to get out of the bed. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at her. "I fell asleep, didn't I?"

"Smart kid." She yanked the blankets back and turned to him, reaching for the knot of his tie. "At least take this off."

One she had pulled his tie off, she motioned back to the bed. "Go on, you need sleep if you're going to be at all functional tomorrow."

Reid climbed back into the bed, partially because he was too groggy to argue with her. "So do you."

Elle flipped the light switch off and crawled into the other side of the bed, curling the blankets up under her chin. She was exhausted, but she had two distinct thoughts before she drifted off to sleep. _Reid is in bed with me. I wonder if that vacuum comes in any other colors._


End file.
